


Blythe

by Sokerchick



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokerchick/pseuds/Sokerchick
Summary: A mother comforts her son in the wake of tragedy.





	Blythe

She looked at him laying there in the sofa staring in the direction of the television with a blank expression. She could tell that he wasn't really watching. She could see the salt and pepper bird's nest that made up his hair and recalled a smiling seven year old who's eyes lit up at every new discovery and who's short hair was bleached a sandy blonde by the sun of four different countries.

She remembered the moments when it was just the two of them against the world. John had been working more often than not and a military base didn't support the under ten population that a normal neighborhood did. Despite that though the scorching desert of Egypt had been laid open before them to explore. They went on miniature adventures together exploring, first, the sands around the base then eventually day trips to see the cities or a weekend when they had visited the great pyramids. She remembered Germany and Italy and Japan. 

Mostly, though, she remembered how his sapphire blue eyes would drink in the world around him and how his hand would be clenched around hers dragging her ever forward onto the next new discovery.

She remembered teenage rebellion and medical school graduation and the physical distance that meant they didn't share time together every day. She remembered her thrice weekly phone calls that became once weekly then eventually twice monthly and the even more infrequent visits.

Her little boy was gone. Replaced by a cocksure doctor with an easy grin. Only to be replaced again when his own body betrayed him. 

She remembered the phone call that had led her to the airport at record speed hardly stopping to pack a bag. The ever certain voice of her son sounded broken and confused.

"She left me." 

She moved around to the sofa and sat near his head and he glanced up through red rimmed eyes. In a dead voice he repeated what he had said on the phone. "Stacy is gone."

So she pulled his head into her lap and rubbed his back while her thirty eight year old son cried himself to sleep as his world crashed down around him.


End file.
